


Twenty Dollars

by dont_hate_me01



Series: Incorrect quotes [6]
Category: SEAL Team (TV)
Genre: Clay Spenser Whump, Gen, Grandma's recipe, Hurt/Comfort, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:35:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29137932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_hate_me01/pseuds/dont_hate_me01
Summary: Trent:I'll give $20 to whoever can make Clay sleep first.Metal:*grabbing a frying pan* Where is he?
Series: Incorrect quotes [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1499171
Kudos: 132





	Twenty Dollars

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the ever-present, [RoboFoxtrot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoboFoxtrot) who, not only giggled along, but made sure that this short story is readable.

“Clay, please, close your eyes and go to sleep,” Trent pleaded with their rookie. They were on base but confined to the Green team barracks for the next ten days. That was after they came from a fucked up mission where the whole team got exposed to one or other unknown substance and had to be isolated until they are all in the clear – or – all dead.

This was day five, and they were all going stir crazy, but none more so than Clay. He’d started showing symptoms earlier in the day. A searing headache, nausea, a fever followed closely by the chills. Clay was achy and downright miserable.

With his fever spiking, he couldn’t get settled. He paced the ten-bed barracks from one side to the other, his arms either circled across his midriff, or his hands interlaced behind his head. He continued to mumble under his breath. His eyes darted from side to side, as if he was looking for something that was clearly not there.

Not even Jason’s Bravo voice could get Clay to sit down for more than ten seconds.

Sonny had tried to banter with him, Clay ignored him.

Ray wanted to play chess – Clay looked as if he didn’t know what the word _chess_ meant.

Between Brock and Cerberus, they had managed to keep Clay occupied for a whole two minutes.

Trent was getting desperate.

“Twenty dollars to whoever can make Clay sleep first!” Trent threw his arms up in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Metal grab the frying pan from the small kitchenette.

“Where is he?” Metal tapped the pan against his massive left palm.

A wall of five mean looking SEALs, and one pissed-off dog, appeared before him even before Metal could take a step forward.

Metal gave an involuntary step back. “What’s wrong?” he asked innocently.

“Are you fucking crazy?” Sonny rumbled.

“What?” Metal shrugged. He still held the pan in his right hand.

“What are you going to do with the pan, Metal?” Ray found his voice to ask the question.

Metal looked down at his hands and grinned. “Gonna earn myself twenty-dollars.”

“By hitting Clay over the fucking head!” Sonny exploded. He took a swing at the bigger man but found himself pushed back by Jason and Trent. “Let me go!”

“What?” Metal asked, shocked.

“Don’t you fucking _what_ , me, Metal! Don’t you fucking dare stand there looking innocent. You want to hit Clay over the head. Isn’t it enough that the kid feels beyond miserable? Now you want to give him a concussion as well!” Sonny continued to rant as Jason and Trent held him back.

Metal frowned, looked down at the pan and gave a small smile. “We don’t have a saucepan.”

“What?” Brock frowned.

“You wanted to cook his fucking brains!” Sonny was red in the face.

“No!” Metal grunted.

“Then what the fuck did you want to do!”

“Heat up some milk.” Metal lowered his head.

Sonny deflated. “Wait, you want to say that again?” He shook the hold Jason had on his arm loose.

Metal indicated to the pan. “My grandma’s recipe. Milk, bourbon, cinnamon and nutmeg. Heat it until it simmers, pour it into a glass and drink. It always calms you down and makes you go to sleep.” He looked down at his feet. “It works for me on bad nights.”

“Huh, okay.” Sonny nodded his head. “If you’re sure it will work, we can try it.” He passed Jason and handed Metal the milk.

The team watched as Metal first placed the cinnamon and nutmeg in the pan and heated it very slowly. Soon the aroma filled the small space and they all breathed deeply. He then added the milk and waited patiently for the tiny bubbles to appear on the side of the pan before he took it off the stove, and with a whisk, gently stirred the tot of bourbon and a teaspoon of sugar in. When he was sure the sugar was dissolved, he emptied into a tall glass and handed it to Trent. “Here, I hope it works.”

Trent took the glass with a nod of the head and went to where Clay still paced between the bunks. He gently took the younger man by the arm and led him over to his bunk. “I want you to try this for me, okay?” Trent whispered as he handed Clay the glass. He smiled as Clay sniffed at the glass before he brought it to his lips and took a small sip.

“Nice?”

Clay nodded as he continued to drink the warm milk. He sighed as he finished the glass and handed it back to Trent. “Thanks.”

With a nod Trent took the glass back. “Think you’d be able to get some sleep now?”

Clay hummed as he curled himself up on his bunk and sighed in content as his head hit the pillow. He groaned deeply as he snuggled deeper into his pillow and then closed his eyes. Even before Trent could move away from the narrow bunk, Clay was fast asleep.

With a grin from ear to ear, Trent went back to the rest of the team. Without a word, he took out a twenty and held it out to Metal. “Thank you.”

Metal took the note and his eyes grew large, as another four hands, each holding a twenty towards him. He shook his head. “The agreement was twenty.”

“You deserve the hundred,” Sonny pushed the money towards him. “Clay is finally asleep, and it’s all thanks to you.”

Metal gathered the money and put it in his pocket. He will keep it for now, and when they are finally out of his place, and at the Bulkhead, he’ll be buying the first round.

**THE END**


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